Critic Reviews

Unabashedly tasteless, wholly trashy and, also, hugely entertaining.

There's a case to be made for The Real Cancun as a document of the mating dance as well as an unintentionally poignant film about the brevity of youth.

The result is surprisingly genial, even innocent -- a movie without a screenplay that echoes countless coming-of-age-at-the-beach movies, except maybe "Weekend at Bernie's."

It's just a camcorder soap opera of packaged hormonal fervor -- ''The Real World'' with extra tequila body shots.

Not so much a documentary as it is a bald-faced party movie.

It's not much, but it isn't awful, either, provided you're interested in this sort of thing to begin with.

An uncensored, often hilarious vision of spring break madness that is so perfectly positioned on the big screen, the only question you can ask its creators is, "What took you so long?"

It actually works as a sometimes funny, occasionally scandalous, but mostly involving narrative.

There are worse crimes being perpetrated in Hollywood than The Real Cancún--an exploitation fantasy no more booby-besotted than a "Porky's" or "American Pie" installment, and certainly no more unreal.

If, having seen "Jackass" half a dozen times, you now yearn to watch a pair of identical twins from Texas Tech cavort in the wet T-shirt contest or hear mobs of drunken undergraduates screaming for more margaritas, here's your flick.